Adventures with Mobile Phones

To say I had an 'interesting' day yesterday, is a bit like saying it was a bit damp during the biblical flood. It certainly had entertainment value. I certainly wasn't bored.

Now, I don't know if I've ever said: I don't work on Fridays. No, Fridays are not the Pagan equivalent of the Sabbath. They just pay me to do four days' work. Which is fine by me. It means on Friday morning, I don't have my alarm set, I can wander around in my pink fluffy dressing gown, get my braces adjusted, go see my dishy osteopath, have coffee and cakes with my friends. Working for a living is all very well, but working 5 days a week, doesn't half interfere with one's Life. I'm happy with this arrangement.

However, this week things have been a bit frantic at work, we've had staff holidays and illness to contend with. And while my manager has the energy of 3 toddlers with ADHD, even she's been hard pressed at times. Unfortunately, even she's not been able to squeeze more than 24 hours into a day. And trust me, it's not from the lack of her trying. So, I said I'd go in for half a day.

You know how they say, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions? Yeah, exactly. Work was fine. I got in and got everything that I wanted done, done. I kicked my To Do List's butt. Oh yes, for I take no prisoners people. The trouble started when I was supposed to leave work. I had to go do a flat inspection. I'd warned my tenant I was working, plus he's fully aware of my time-keeping - 'ish'. It's very 'ish'. Anyway, I wanted to have a comfort break before I headed off.

Ah, let me back-track slightly. When I work, I have my phone in my left back pocket, my iPod Touch in my right back pocket. I 'listen' to music as I work. I say 'listen' because the music is so familiar to me, it's background noise less distracting than the conversation round our open-plan office.

So, I take out my iPod, put it in my bag, ready to go off, go to the downstairs loo.

I unbuckle my trousers, bend slightly and then there is a loud 'plop' from behind.

Do you ever wish Life came with a [pause] and [rewind] button? At that moment, I would have given my firstborn for one.

I fished my phone out, dried the outside with paper towels and put my head in my hands (after washing them thoroughly). Now Ladies and Gentlemen, let me reassure you, the loos at work are cleaned to the highest of standards. I was confident when my hand went into the loo water, I wasn't going to end up with dysentery, my hand was still going to be attached to my arm. If it had been a public lav, darlings I would have just flushed that loo and walked away! I was very fond of my mobile phone. It was a very basic, but shiny silver phone that did everything I wanted it to. It sent texts, made calls and took the occasional picture. I was especially pleased with the Bluetooth facility that allowed it to 'talk' to my car, enabling me to make hands-free calls whilst I drive along.

It appeared to still work after the dunking, and then as I drove to see my tenant, it stopped working. When I did get home, I was advised to take it apart and dry it out. In the meantime, I went on-line to O2 to see what could be done. Now they do a fast-track contract renewal on-line. Which I tried to do. But for me to use this on-line facility, I'd have to put in a code which they text to my phone. Which wasn't working. I spoke to a 'virtual' advisor and then to a 'real' advisor, who made the suggestion that I see how the phone was in the morning, but I could go into a mobile phone shop and fast-track an upgrade if necessary. I kept my fingers crossed.

Now people IRL know that I have several quirks (I know, me quirks? Who'd have thought it), one of which is: I require things to work. If I get in my car I want to know 100% that when I turn my key, the damn thing will start first time. Not for me dodgy mechanics requiring WD40, duct tape and a hammer. Those kind of things really drive me nuts. Put it down to my complete lack of adventure. Personally, if I'm 3 feet from my mobile phone I feel uncomfortable, if it's 10 feet, I have to pick it up and carry it around. I need my mobile phone to take the inevitable call from Boy 'can you pick me up from?' and 'Mum, I've hurt my leg' or 'Can you pick your son up, he's not very well today'. So this morning, while I was relieved my phone appeared no worse for wear, I was determined to replace it.

So that's what I did. Of course, Boy had to come with me. I insisted. If you want to talk techie, you take an expert to translate. Teenagers are techie machines. Me...not so much. I don't need to know the ins and outs of tech shit. Life is short and I'm not interested. It was fine. He talked tech with the phone salesman and steered me away from the shiny HTC phone. I am now the proud owner of a Nokia C3. Which is perfect. It pretends it's something special because it's shiny and has a touch-screen facility, but is actual for older people because it has big buttons and is idiot proof.

Of course, upgrading my phone meant I had to look at my tariff. Did I want 200 minutes and 500 free texts or did I want to go all out for 300 minutes and unlimited texts. I mean for heaven's sake it's not like anyone calls me on a regular basis. However, I'm an optimist. And I can text for England. So, I took the slightly more expensive option.

I spent 2 hours this afternoon, when I got home, getting my phone settings to my liking. These things are never fucking simple, are they? Ringtones, message tones, predictive texting, home screen layout, birthday information etc. Yes, it really did take me 2 hours to get it done so I was happy with it. All that effort and the trauma of having to go into the city centre on a Saturday morning, sent me to my bed for an afternoon nap. My proudest moment today was when I introduced my new phone to my car. Yes, it took me all of 15 minutes of continuous swearing, when the BMW salesman set it up in 2 (without swearing), but hell, I did it. I can now drive and make hands-free calls.

All I need now is someone to ring me.